Alternative Dragon
by Zebee
Summary: An alternative version of Silverfox's Runaway Dragon. Snape is trying to rebuild his life when a shattered Draco Malfoy lands in his lap.
1. Chapter 1

Alternative Dragon  
=================== 

An alternative version of Silverfox's Runaway Dragon. http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805 

It will likely make no sense unless you have read that fic. 

The basics are that Severus Snape lives with his new family in a very poor part of town when he's not at the school, under scrutiny by Aurors because of his past which includes a prison sentence for being a Death eater - Albus didn't quite get him free after Voldemort's fall, but managed to keep it down to 5 years and probation. He's forbidden to move or get another job, held on a tight leash by a ministry pretending they have everything under control, and he's trying to make the best of it. 

He has found someone who is healing him, he has a young son, and he's learning to live for them rather than in a cold fear of the future, hiding from human contact. And he's not mixed up with Death Eaters, he's doing his best not to be mixed up with Death Eaters. Even if not that many people believe it. 

He finds a shattered Draco Malfoy who has just witnessed his father kill his mother. 

Silverfox's story is Draco's view of events, this one is Snape's. The plot and explanations are hers, many of Snape's reactions and statements won't make sense without knowing the fuller story. This is more a character study than a story. Think of it as a companion piece, though I'll do my best to make the sequences clear. 

I own nothing but my words, the things that aren't JK Rowling's are Silverfox's. 

I apologise for any shifts in tense between past and present, I gave up trying to keep it fully consistent. 

This is all from Snape's view, if that makes it easier to cope with the tense shifts. Almost all dialogue is taken from Runaway Dragon verbatim. 

I did this because I like Snape, I like the different view SilverFox has of what might happen to him and what path he might take, and I have writer's block on Transformation. 

* * *

Alternative Dragon  
=================== 

Chapter 1  
--------- 

Covers Runaway Dragon Chapter 1  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805 

* * *

At first I didn't notice the pile of clothing had a boy inside it, but the movement caught the corner of my eye, and the sobs caught the edge of my hearing. 

I don't know why I bothered, and had it been Knockturn Alley I wouldn't have, but something about those sobs and the bright daylight and that it was Diagon Alley turned my feet. 

The face - tense, tearstained, horrifyingly lost - was familiar. And that was bad news. Very bad news. Whichever way you looked at it, Malfoy's son here crying and probably hurt was very bad news. 

I had to fight the desire to whip my head around looking for the Aurors or worse still the cloaked and masked figures, instead I intensified my awareness, concentrated hard on the surroundings, every sense kicked into overdrive. 

Someone had been at Draco Malfoy, and here I was in the middle of it. Unasked, unwanted, and very unwilling. But no way out now, I couldn't leave the poor kid like this. 

I allowed myself a casual look, no one obviously here. Alright, time to approach the boy. 

"Draco? What are you doing here?" 

The usually controlled, usually contained, usually quite capable boy was snivelling, incapable, almost unrecognisable. What had got him into this state? 

"Come Draco, I'll take you home". 

The boy's reaction, the words jerking out, startled me. What on earth? 

"Who killed whom?" I said. Slowly, calmly, trying to get the boy to make sense. 

"My father... killed my mother..." 

Gods! Couldn't be true, Lucius? No, must have just been a bit of a fight, bit of a disturbance. Could he have seen some Dark thing and mistaken it? 

I tried to calm the child, tried to get him to see reason. And, feeling perhaps a little foolish, ran my thumb over the boy's forearm, wondering if I'd feel the Mark... Wondering if that's what had snapped Draco's self control. 

All my senses said the boy believed it. Well, if there was trouble at Malfoy Manor, the last thing Severus Snape - convicted Death Eater with "target: Aurors aim here" scrawled on his back - needed, was to get involved. 

But dammit, I couldn't leave Draco like this. The father was a terror, and had been ruining the boy quite energetically, but maybe there was hope for Draco still. Even if not, I couldn't leave him here like this. OK, let the damned Aurors earn their money for once, the boy seemed to think that's what he wanted. "Alright, I'll tell the aurors, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. And I'll take you home tonight." Sudden jump, eyes wide. unmistakable terror and memory there. Maybe there was something in it! Another quick check, stlll no watchers, no feel of magic beyond the usual background level, nothing obviously wrong. It isn't a setup, but it seems like the Manor isn't an option. 

Damn! Damn! Damn!. Have to do it. "Not your home. Mine." 

Later, I wondered why I'd been so certain it was safe to expose myself and mine to Draco. I must have believed Lucius was dead and his hold over the boy equally dead, to have even considered it. 

Sometimes, instinct is reliable. Even mine. 

-------------------- 

We walked across the bridge, the boy's eyes getting wider and wider. Did he even know this part of the world existed? Yes, apparently so, probably heard a few grisly tales. Everyone knows how bad West Hogsmeade is. Everyone who matters that is. Meaning not me. I no longer matter, and it is amazing how liberating that is. I have felt freer in West Hogsmeade during these last couple of years than I'd ever felt at Hogwarts or anywhere else. Than anywhere except maybe University. 

"I know it's not the best part of town, but you'll be okay as long as you stick close to me. They're not bad people if they know you." 

Suddenly I realised I was about to show how much I didn't matter to this spoilt little rich kid. How much money and power Severus Snape didn't have any more. Somehow I didn't think Lucius's son would realise that wealth wasn't always measured in money. 

No, sometimes it was measured in the strangest things! Like laughter. Like this odd happy feeling I had as I watched Draco cope with something as simple as a light switch. No disdain, no pretending he knew all about it, instead an almost avid delight in the discovery. Who'd have thought it? 

Explanations lasted all the way up the stairs, and through the door. Where nearly all my worldly wealth met me in the living room. 

A few words passed, but neither of us really paid much attention to them, words as defence are a habit between us when others are in the room. I watched as she fed that damned stray dog the way she cared for everything, cared for me, words and actions so oddly different. 

And now she seemed happy enough to take in another stray, as though a tearstained disturbed teenager was no more trouble than a scrap of a dog. 

Or a damaged Death Eater, convict, indentured servant.... 

Oh gods above and gods below, how did I deserve her? I still find it impossible, unbelievable. She likes to tease me about that, curled up with me in the darkness. "I'm here. I was here yesterday, I will be here tomorrow, so apply intelligence to problem and on Mr Squeers's principle, go to bed and work it out!" 

The boy was still stunned, acting very different to his normal snotty self. Shocked right out of his comfort zone, he was grasping at the strange new muggle stuff around him to stop himself thinking about whatever it was he saw at Malfoy Manor. Would wear off soon enough I thought, enjoy it while it lasts! 

And brace yourself Severus Snape, for dealing *voluntarily* with Aurors in the morning. It's Lucius Malfoy, which means the Anti-Dark-Arts squad, because no one will appreciate normal flatfoots horning into that part of town, that particular house. And that meant.. well, don't think about that. Not tonight. Sufficient unto the day the evil thereof, let dealing with those bastards be tomorrow's problem. 

Tonight I have better things to do. 

* * *

I will be doing the When Sev Met Sarah story soon. It will involve Death Eaters and the Anti-Dark-Arts squad and intrigue and a whodunnit and the Sev-torture that one has to have in these productions. 

It will also be the most complex thing I've done and it's scaring me silly. 

So until I have it plotted and outlined and ready to go, Alternative Dragon keeps the creative juices flowing. And maybe the 3rd part of Transformation will happen. 

This isn't really for anyone but me and Silverfox, but with luck it will appeal to others! 

and if you have alternate wording to solve this damn tense shift problem that is eating at me, please let me know! 


	2. Chapter 2

Alternative Dragon  
=================== 

An alternative view of Silverfox's Runaway Dragon which will likely make no sense if you have not read that and maybe my other stories too. 

I own nothing but my words, the things that aren't JK Rowling's are Silverfox's. 

Chapter 2  
--------- 

Covers Chapter 2  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805&chapter=2 

* * *

I sent Munin off to the ADA squad early, and headed off myself to get some jobs done and some feelers out before they descended upon me. 

If Malfoy really was dead, then the ramifications would be... interesting. As out of the loop as I was (and happy to be so thank you very much!), I might still be able to get a feel for who was going to fill the power vacuum. The dog would make as good an excuse as any to be in Knockturn Alley, talking to people who had been talking to people. 

Sarah would look after Draco. She'd be able to keep him out of the park, he might understand Slytherin power structures, but the Hogsmeade gangs were right out of his ken, and they'd eat him for breakfast without sugar if he got in amongst them. 

Hopefully he wouldn't be too underfoot, and Sarah could certainly cope with the usual Malfoy snobbishness. For the time I'd be away anyway, I would be able to quell the worst of the brat's pureblood viciousness when I got back. 

Mind you, if he did start on that particular habit, then maybe the park would be the best place for him. There were a couple of Squibs down there who would show Master Malfoy that breeding wasn't a lot of use compared to a bit of chain with muscle behind it.... 

I was amazed to return and find the kid not only polite, but helpful! Volunteering to do the dishes even, was this the real Draco Malfoy? 

He seemed to be getting on well with Billy too, quite unknown depths in young Draco. Get him away from the scum he usually associated with, and look what happens. 

I'd been slowly pulling Slytherin up from the depths, building a cadre of almost decent youngsters from the abused and damaged and disliked and frightened who found their way into my care, but there were still ones I'd never be able to mend. Until now, I'd thought Lucius's spoilt son was one, but maybe there was hope. Was I slipping, to never have seen this side of the boy? 

Still no news about Lucius, so had best keep the lad interested, give him other things to think about. Throw some questions at him, chat to him a bit, distract him from whatever had made him collapse in that sobbing heap in Diagon Alley. Not surprising he was interested in the gangs, hell of a day for a kid to be cooped up inside. But inside was the best place for him. 

OK, let's see what the lad has learned. There were times I wondered if any of them retained anything even vaguely useful, for something like potions, class learning was so inefficient. Too wide a spread of ability, too little time with each one. Cookbook work, with just enough theory to make it seem like real learning, they probably thought it was always like that. Neatly written down, the only skill how well you can mince things. 

Still, given some encouragement, he was starting off properly. Oh he was having trouble, but it wasn't an easy assignment, and he wasn't giving up. Doing better than expected, maybe some of it did get through! 

Hmm... the ADA is taking a while to come battering the door down. If there'd been nothing in it, they'd have been here doing me in for malicious rumour immediately, so looks like there was some basis. How much though? And what else did they find? Would they think I was still mixed up in it? Had I just hung myself in my own rope? Where are they? Gods, listen to you Severus Snape, are you actually *hoping* for a visit from the ADA? 

Ah. Munin. That means there will be a knock on the door any minute now, and given my luck it will be... Yes. Roger bloody Rogerson. Officious little twerp with no redeeming features. Not old enough to have done real work against the Dark Lord, not senior enough for much but errands and harassing poor sods like Snape, Severus. OK, have to hold on to my temper because he would just *love* to take me in for "questioning". 

So even though he insults my wife, scares my son, and ye Gods and little fishes even kicks the cat, I will be calm and distant and not give him the excuse he's after, and definitely not give him the thrashing he so richly deserves. 

Gods. It's hit home now hasn't it. Probably had just about convinced himself the whole thing was a nightmare. "Draco, you're not weak. It's okay to cry. hey, your mother just died. I'd be very worried if you weren't crying, you know." 

Next job will be to find a place for Draco, someone who won't finish the job Lucius started. All on hold until after the trial, even though there's no chance at all that Malfoy will get off. Of course that's what I thought last time wasn't it, and I got to spend 5 years dodging Dementors and pacing 4 steps up and 4 steps back while Mr Bloody Malfoy got tea and sympathy. What it is to have money and barefaced cheek! He'll be displaying both in spades in the next few days, but with luck even he might not have enough of either. 

* * *

The name of the unpleasant man is an Australian injoke. Roger Rogerson was a very corrupt policeman, star turn of a Royal Commission into the New South Wales police. Bribery, drugs, strongarm stuff, gangs, killings, you name it, Roger Rogerson was doing it or arranging for it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Alternative Dragon   
=================== 

An alternative view of Silverfox's Runaway Dragon which will likely make no sense if you have not read that and maybe my other stories too. 

I own nothing but my words and my inability to keep the tenses consistent, the things that aren't JK Rowling's are Silverfox's. 

Chapter 3  
---------  
Covers Chapter 3 of Runaway Dragon  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805&chapter=3 

* * *

The next morning, I had to turn up to what promised to be a very boring day at a very boring trial. Draco wanted to come too, wanted to go home, wanted to be anywhere but cooped up in a 4th floor flat in West Hogsmeade, but he'd have to cope. 

He wasn't too happy about having to wear Muggle clothes either, a trace of that damnfool prejudice there no doubt. 

But he was docile enough as Munin and I left. Sarah would look after him, she would handle him, she could handle anything! 

When I got back, tired and drained after hours of wasted time, she told me he'd been no trouble, helpful even! And now he was off in my lab reading books. Hardly normal for a fifteen year old on holidays, especially that one, this warranted investigation. 

There he was, making notes! Feet of them, I'd not seen him this industrious in all the time I'd known him. Oh, he'd got good marks alright, he must have been studying somewhere, but he usually took good care not to be seen to do it by anyone who might seize on it as a weakness. 

(Was I in that camp? How well did I know this boy anyway? Have I let a name blind me?) 

He did seem to be serious, as though those light switches had somehow opened something in his mind. He wants to study physics? No, he wants to know how a light works, he has no real idea how much is involved, he'll get over it. But it's nice to discuss these things with someone who thinks they are worth doing. How low you have sunk, Severus Snape, to be grateful for a teenager's interest in your work? Well you know that no one else is interested in it! Not unless you can give them a potion or a spell right here and now that will do something they want. 

Oh well, anything to open his mind. He'll be having hard enough times in the next few days, anything to distract him. This muggle science obsession won't last more than a day or two, but anything to keep him occupied. And out of the park. Malfoy may have his head on the block, but that won't stop me being in trouble if his son ends up getting a good kicking down there and the ADA find out. 

Well. Is he really that ignorant? About money, and the lack thereof? But then how much did I know at his age eh? I too bought the party line that every wizard-born ended up at Hogwarts, didn't I. That the Weasleys were dirt poor, that everyone who could wave a wand could afford 3 sets of robes and a broomstick and a purpose-bred owl and a wand custom built by Ollivander. That every poor wretch I saw on Knockturn Alley and sneaking about the Three Broomsticks was not One Of Us, had to be Squib or Muggle or some other subhuman. 

And just like a certain young Death Eater, learning that things aren't as he thought they were is upsetting young Mr Malfoy. It does change things when it's people you know, doesn't it Draco! Ah well, he can't help what he's been brought up to believe. 

"Billy will be all right. He'll go to school with all the neighbour's kids. The same kids he'll grow up with and go to primary school with." 

And don't I wish it could be different. Don't I wish I could change things for these two people who are my whole existence, my loves, my life's reason, don't I wish I could give them more than this. A cramped dogbox on the 4th floor, not quite enough money, and definitely nowhere near enough safety. 

Ah well, no need to frighten Draco with that. He doesn't need to know that my son's life hangs on more than what school he goes to, that it hangs on my ability to make certain people think he means nothing to me, and that I am nothing to them. While Dumbledore might be quite happy to take him to Hogwarts, Billy's a lot better off here. Poor, lacking in opportunity, never fulfilling his potential, but never coming to the notice of people who smash babies against the wall to force their parents... No. Let's not go there. Let's not remember that. Not that. 

I was very grateful for Sarah that night. She has the ability to change the nightmares into dreams of roses and summer. How I miss that, down in the dungeons of Hogwarts, when I have to be Snape-the-Sarcastic-Bastard, Snape-the-Outcast-and-Leader-of-Outcasts. Snape-the-Tool-In-Albus's-Hand. 

That Snape has far too many nightmares, and it's never summer below ground. 

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Alternative Dragon  
=================== 

Chapter 4  
---------  
A different view of Chapters 4 and 5 of Runaway Dragon  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805&chapter=4 

* * *

Another day, another lot of expensive lawyers wasting time and Lucius's money. Draco's money. I do not need to waste my precious time here! But I have to sit and wait until they decide they don't need me. At least I have Munin to talk to. 

Lucius looks old. Perhaps the strain was more than he could take. Now that the Dark Lord's back. It was easier being the head of the pack wasn't it Lucius? A few meetings, a lot of talking, people looking up to you, doing what you say, leaving your hands clean. Easier than having to grovel in graveyards and dreading the moment the madman wants a little entertainment from your screaming. 

You might find Azkaban easier than Voldemort's little games Lucius. I've had both, and while it's not a choice I want to make again, I think I'd still choose the prison. 

--------- 

So when I get back, the boy has his head in a maths book, and refuses to give it up. Doesn't want to eat, wants to do algebra. Did Lucius drop him on his head that night? Hex him in some new and awful way? Now wouldn't that be a wonderful new curse "Academentia!" Make someone stop focusing on Quidditch and start focusing on schoolwork... 

It would be instantly classed as the Fourth Unforgivable! 

Ack. And now he's asking awkward questions. Lets move him on from that, I do not want to talk about Death Eaters thank you. Odd though, maybe Lucius didn't drag him in as far as I thought, he doesn't know I was one, I thought he would have been told that. 

I can't believe he is still on about electricity. He really must have been hit hard by this business of his father to be obsessing about that. I suppose there's not much else here to latch onto. Not much else to keep his mind off what he saw. Have to get him out of the flat... He can come to the building meeting, can't get in much trouble there! 

--------- 

Sarah said he'd been useful all day, so I hand him Billy for a moment so he can continue to be useful, look after Billy while I deal with this. Nothing is going on in this meeting, I may as well talk to someone about potions. 

Come back down to the oh-so-familiar noise of teenagers fighting. I let Head-of-House-Snape take over, he has had a lot of practice in breaking up fights. 

Yet more depths to Draco, taking on Mark the Shark eh? Without his shadowing goons too, I wonder if he realised he had no backup when he started? 

I think I will find young Mark later. He has to learn he can't touch what's mine. 

------------ 

What, in that book *again*? This is beyond a joke, a teenager preferring books to eating? 

(And hasn't it happened before? You know it has. Oh. Could eating with us be as bad as eating in the Great Hall was for that other teenager so long ago?) 

Well, it's not natural, he needs to find some other way to cope. 

(No, it's not hypocritical, if I'd been less in books and more with people I might have seen sense before I made so many bad choices.) 

I spoke about him to Sarah that night. How he'd fitted in so quickly with the local kids, been so good with Billy, even managed in a kitchen without utter disaster and without whining, which surprised me more. 

She looked at me with that "you aren't fit to be let out without a keeper" look she gets when she thinks I'm being particularly thick about the real world, about things that aren't Hogwarts and potions. 

"Maybe you aren't the only one who can be a halfway decent human being when you aren't in that hellhole of a school!" 

Yes. Well. She doesn't like the person I am when I'm at Hogwarts. She doesn't understand that I have to be that person. I have a duty, I have to be inhuman there. A monster to fight monsters. To protect against monsters. 

Maybe Draco had to be inhuman too... Because the Elements know that Lucius was a monster. 

Both Draco and I have to go back to Hogwarts come the end of summer, better he gets back to his own circles as soon as he can. He wasn't born to be hanging about with a bunch of squibs and orphans and halfbreeds, and when the novelty wears off and he misses his money and his things, and the easy life, he'll be aching to get back to Hogwarts and everything it stands for. Back home. 

I wonder when Hogwarts stopped being home for me? 

----------- 


	5. Chapter 5

Alternative Dragon  
=================== 

Chapter 5  
---------  
A different view of Chapters 6-8 of Runaway Dragon  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805&chapter=6 

* * *

How long has it been now? Four days? 

It's as though he's been here forever. Off swimming with his gang, helping Sarah, and I wonder if he knows how much I owe him for that. 

And how much I owe him for Billy. 

Better get him a new home quickly, before everyone gets too attached to him, from Munin on up. ( Or down? Who owns who is never clear with ravens.) He can't stay here, he can't live here, he has to get back to his relatives, he has to get back to his own people. Who can look after him, pay for his education, set him up in life. 

Focus on that, find them, hand him over. Don't get attached, Severus Snape, don't get attached to this stranger with Draco's name who fits so well into your life. 

And Sarah's life. You can't give him to her. He's not yours to give. 

So many things you want to give her and can't. 

------------ 

Well, some things are the same I suppose. Confession time in the lab is like confession time in the Serpent's Den: corner them, look at them, wait for the truth to emerge. 

And then try and teach them how to deal with the problems, how to see the power structures, how to use them. How to make alliances, not break them. 

"Ah Draco, you ought to know this. It's just like Hogwarts really. It's not about not being afraid of Hagrid, it's about pretending not to be afraid of Hagrid." 

Funny that there's never been a reason to have this chat with Draco. He was more isolated than I'd realised. With his money and his goons and his influence, he'd never had to learn this stuff the way the others did. I've been failing this boy. He'd have been frighteningly alone without his props, and with no understanding of how to live without them. 

But at least he realises the basics. 

"What do I do if the Sharks attack the Rakers?" "What would you do if the Gryffindors attacked the Slytherins?" "Fight?" "Fight." 

Your house is your family. You protect what's yours. You look after your own, because no one else will. Hogwarts or here, it's all the same. 

Monsters everywhere. Fight. 

And don't think about what happens when you lose. 

-------------- 

He's hurting. Nightmares, well, I know what those are. Not good. Not good at all. 

He's starting to realise how different things are. Oh I remember what it was like, to realise that everything you took for granted was gone. How many homes and Gringott's vaults are in Ministry hands now? Mine and Lucius's, certainly. Legal theft. I might have deserved it, I *did* deserve it, but Draco doesn't. 

Things are going to be very different when school starts if we can't find him a rich relative. Too bad he's not a Weasley, you trip over one of them everywhere you go. Malfoys seem to be thin on the ground, although this is the first time that's made me anything but very happy.... 

To think I was worried he'd get hurt by the local kids. He fits in with a bunch of West Hogsmeade tearaways far better than he did in the Den. He used money and hired muscle there, when he uses his brains and his charm he does a lot better. I wonder if he'll realise that come school time? And will he think about all this when he gets back to Malfoy-land? 

If this stranger with Draco's name doesn't revert to type as soon as he gets back amongst his own kind, he'll be an asset to me in the Serpent's Den. If. 

---------- 

Always interesting to see familiar things through other's eyes. 

A group of West Hogsmeade kids trying to cope with Hogwarts. Well, I see it every year with the muggleborn first years, but somehow I'd expected these wizardborn to handle it the way all the other wizardborn do. But of course Hogwarts and all it is and has is outside their ken. 

Eyes large as dinner plates, and trying hard not to show how overwhelming and disturbing it is for kids from another world. 

I've been at this school so long that I don't notice the sheer ostentation of it. Sarah sees it of course, it's high on her list of "Reasons I hate Hogwarts and what it does to Severus". Along with things like "he's trapped there as an indentured servant on low wages with no escape, and a few rare potion ingredients are no substitute for freedom". 

Something which I do not feel like discussing with strangers. 

--------- 

More ostentation in the library. I'm so used to having all this, it is hard to remember that it's something half the world will never see. 

How many of these books have not been touched in a generation? 

It's hardly surprising that the Malfoys aren't listed. Most of the more... difficult oldbloods aren't. You won't find anything under "Snape" for example, not Achilleus, not Maria, and not of course the one who got caught. And you most certainly won't find "Snape, William". Billy isn't the world's best kept secret, but I am not about to announce his existence quite so loudly. 

They might not be in the owlbook, but leave it to them to be obvious in other ways. Father always did think the Malfoys a bit Not-Quite. A bit too fond of ostentatious public display. You won't find "History of the Snapes" in any public library, we are as old as the Malfoys, but a lot less loud about it. Especially what's left of us. 

I wouldn't say "nothing to be loud about" where Father could hear. 

---------- 

I collect them all easily enough, amazing what you learn teaching. At least finding a few bewildered kids in the library is easier than 70 odd young horrors in Hogsmeade. Intimidating Omnipresent Snape is such a useful man to be then. Luckily Hogwarts without students isn't triggering my school self, I think these youngsters would be shocked if they met the man I usually am here. Even Draco, he's never seen the monster coming for him. 

Draco's not happy, I don't need to see him to know that. He'd quiet, his steps uncertain behind me. Loss of family? Scared of a world that might be as strange to him as this great pile is to his friends? The future is always frightening Draco, I just hope you have one. 

"You're one of us now", that's Mike. I wonder if anyone has said that in quite that tone of voice to Draco before. I've heard it of course, but it wasn't said like that. Not with that tone of voice, that note of friendship and protection. Funny, Sarah insists on thinking of the Death Eaters as just another gang, a phase I went through like every other kid she knows. 

I can't tell if that is utter stupidity or serene wisdom. 

Does it matter? 

I wish everyone else would believe it was a phase I've grown out of. 

If they did, I might believe it too. 

--------- 


	6. Chapter 6

Alternate Dragon  
====================  


Chapter 6  
--------- 

A different view of chapter 9 of Runaway Dragon  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805&chapter=9 

* * *

Poor damn kid. 

He's really not coping is he. Wrenched from his world into this, and now I'm kicking him out. No certainties left, no wonder he's trying to hang onto anything he can that stabilises him. 

Billy, the dog, the cat, Munin. 

It has to be the reason he's handling the backpack like that, it could have been anything as long as it's in his hands and he can focus on it. 

Once he settles down he'll be alright, he won't need that security blanket anymore. He won't want it, everyone will laugh at him for having a scuffed cheap thing like that. 

A Raker's cap will be less embarassing, but how can I tell him that he can't keep that allegiance once he finds his new home? That he'll have to forget everything here and forge new alliances? Maybe I won't have to tell him, once he's back in his own world he'll forget this one. 

Sarah bundles us both out the door, hurrying for the train. The kids come with us, but I don't know Draco's even noticing, he's looking about him as though nothing's real. Slowing his steps in a most irritating way. damn it boy I know you are upset but pull yourself together! 

We just make the train, the timing does my already difficult mood no good. Only the Gods know why I bother to bring this damn dog, but it might give Draco something else to think about other than his helplessness. To spend long hours trapped and helpless at the mercy of faceless others and not knowing your fate is something I know all too well. At least you are getting cushioned seats and a window to look out of Draco, as prisons go this train is better than most. 

I watch him try to deal. He pokes at the bird, watches the dog, the scenery, the dog, me, the bird, the dog... Does he know he's wrapping his arms around himself in the classic body language of fear and longing for protection? 

Well, I suppose I may as well try Sarah's suggestion. I told her she was being ridiculous but she gave me that "not fit to be let out without a keeper" look and reminded me that her track record on dealing with troubled kids and emotions in general is a lot better than mine. Which is true, she always seems to see her way to a solution for the damaged. No matter how damaged. Sometimes I feel like her master work... 

So like a good apprentice, I follow my master's instructions. Trying very hard to look like I think this is a perfectly sensible idea, I hand him the parcel. He looks as unconfortable as I feel. This is going to go dreadfully wrong, I just know it. "Just open it. You'll see" 

Oh Gods, he's now convinced I'm insane. He's looking at me as though he should call St Mungos. 

Except he's hugging the thing. Holding it like he holds Billy. 

Why do I doubt her? Why do I think she's incapable given the constant reminders of the opposite? 

"And just look at the way you're holding that teddy. I think you've needed something to cuddle for a long time." 

And I am sending him away from Billy and the dog and even that wartorn feline. He'd prefer child to bear, but he can't take Billy, as I tell him he can't exactly turn up with a child in an owl cage! 

The image dispells his mood and mine, and we laugh together. Somewhere in there the train has changed from a rolling prison to.. well.. a train. I didn't realise how dark I'd been feeling until the laughter dispelled it. 

Tight emotions released in laughter, who would have thought dogs and teddybears so useful? 

Some laughter would do that sourfaced old prune some good, but I doubt she'll realise it. And if watching boy and bird playing silly games doesn't do it, nothing will! 

I ignore her and relax, enjoying this very unaccustomed feeling of contentment. Later I realised just how happy and relaxed I was when I didn't get that conditioned reflex of attention and worry when confronted by an obvious Ministry bureaucrat. It's not as bad as when I see an Auror, but you can't spend years dealing with fear and pain and despair dealt out by the Ministry without some reaction. 

Mind you, the words out of the fool's mouth would have dispelled any such learned fear. I have dealt with many many Ministry incompetents in my time, but I don't think I've ever come across one _quite_ so foolish. 

Or who offers me such a tempting morsel. 

I play with him a bit, how not? I'll take my minor revenges where I can get them. Smith eh? Well, there are many Smiths, but I somehow feel this one's son will be quite obvious. I am quite capable of visiting the sins of the father upon the son, especially if the child talks like that! As he almost certainly will, they always seem to. 

And the child will probably be as blind as the father, how could anyone look at Draco and me and think we are related? He's got Lucius's blonde good looks, and I am the pantomime villain. But then we are not acting like ex-Death-Eater with potential-Death-Eater are we. Or teacher and student. Is this father and son? Would this fool know more than I do about that? I suppose that Lucius wasn't much of a father really. Progenitor maybe, but father never. 

Damn! Why did I have to ruin the mood like that? Reminding him of Azkaban? Of family? Of what he has to do? He's depressed now, eyeing the path, realising that he's about to lose Munin and the dog and all his certainty. 

Don't even think about you not wanting to lose him Severus Snape. You must let him go. You have to. You can't ruin his life by holding onto him. 

But maybe long enough for lunch won't hurt. 

And I can pick up some information while I'm at it. Salve my conscience that way. I have the skills of getting information out of people who don't realise they are giving it, may as well use them. If I have to send Draco away, I must be sure to send him to someone better than Lucius. 

---- 

I have sometimes wanted a house-elf to spare Sarah the drudgery of housework, but this particular specimen reminds me of why I try to do my share. I have the ones at Hogwarts more-or-less trained not to come near me and to speak decently when they do, so I'd forgotten just how irritating they can be. I spare an eye for the boy, who isn't coping either. Scared of a house-elf? What on Earth was life like at Malfoy Manor? The few times I'd been there I saw nothing out of the ordinary... 

Ah. Old, well dressed, smells of magic. This will be Thomas Malfoy then, with all the Malfoy arrogance. You'll see you don't affect me with that look, I've faced far worse than you. I am far worse than you. 

And better than you too. In that I was willing to help a boy who isn't even my blood relative, knowing far more than you do about what he was exposed to. 

Out-sneered and out-glared, Mr Malfoy retreats. And we are almost where we started, with just a name. Will the son be any better than the father, as a guardian for Draco? 

So back to the village, and some more information gathering. The forest is pleasant and peaceful and empty of ears, and I think young Draco needs some more education. A little information about the world he nearly joined, and the people who would have killed him if he did. 

And why being dead would probably be better than being Voldermort's. He must learn that now, because if he hears that voice the way I heard it, he won't realise until far too late. 

I watch him think, watch him try and make what I tell him fit with what he thinks he knows. Does he trust me enough to discard what he's been raised to believe? Not in this one afternoon of course, but at least it's a start. I didn't think I could save him and so never tried, I have a lot of time to make up. 

----------- 

A long day. And although not productive in one way, quite possibly so in another. If I can innoculate him against the sweet seduction of the Dark Lord and his followers and fellow travellers, even a little, then maybe I won't have lost him altogether. Even if I never see him again. 

Teenagers. Like puppydogs, they seem to have an inexhaustible supply of energy. I should be used to it, but I don't think I've been in one's company non-stop for this length of time, ever. 

Or wanted to be. 

Enough. You'll have to give him up Severus Snape, these days snatched from fate are just that, they won't last. Be thankful for the ones you have a right to love, don't get caught up in this one you have no right to. 

You can't have him. You can't afford to keep him, you can't protect him. Not from any of those bastards who want his bloodlines and his name and whatever he knows, and not from the Ministry who give dogs bad names then gleefully hang them. 

Sarah, of course, understands the problem. And neatly gets his mind off wanting to live somewhere just like this, with people just like us, and into the idea of somewhere different. 

I hope she can make me feel happy about it too. 

============= 


	7. Chapter 7

Alternate Dragon  
====================  


Chapter 7  
--------- 

A different view of chapter 10 of Runaway Dragon  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=431805&chapter=10 

* * *

Market day. Crowds, heat, jostling, keeping track of packages and people and that damn dog. But it has to be borne, the food's too expensive elsewhere. 

I am not, I suppose, _poor_. With my salary, restricted as it is, and the various things Albus gives me with that innocent air I am probably better off than most in this forgotten little hole called West Hogsmeade. Despite the Ministry's best endeavours. But oh... I remember. I remember when food was just there, and clothes were just there, any beautiful things seen in a shop window were to be had for the asking. It used to jar Sarah, way back at University, when I bought any book I wanted instead of camping out in the library because all the best ones were on 4 hour loan. Some of them I saved, or rather Albus did, but most have gone wherever my furniture and candlesticks and fine shirts have gone. What would the Ministry do with The Chemical Data Handbook of 1980? 

Ah well, let us make a virtue out of necessity. If worst comes to worst, Draco is going to be as badly off as I am, and without Sarah at his side to show him how to survive when you can't just go to Gringotts. He'll need some idea of how to live when money isn't something other people have to worry about. 

We organise all the essentials, even that damn dog, because he'll just wreck the place if we leave him. First job for Draco then, maybe they'll wear each other out! 

Sarah plans the attack as usual, I follow and run interference as best I can. None of the pickpockets and sneakthieves bother us, word spread some time ago about me, and what I'm capable of. They don't bother Sarah when she's on her own now either, I wonder if it will rub off on Draco? Although he's more likely to be seen as recruit than victim, there's very little of the moneyed oldblood about him now, if he doesn't open his mouth. Less than skin deep this vaunted civilisation. From aristocratic princeling to blue-clad tearaway in less than a week. 

I keep him close while I can, while the crowd isn't so thick, so he can see how the job is done, how to bargain, what to do, and with luck he'll also see what not to do. 

I wrestle with a bored and thus destructive Billy, and turn round to see that Draco most certainly hasn't seen what not to do. Should have known, he's not going to hang around with those kids without learning some bad habits. I can just hope they also teach him how to avoid being caught at it! 

More people. More congestion. Whiny teenager. This is not doing my temper any good at all. Calm down Severus Snape, apply intelligence to problem. Solve the dog problem and that should solve the teenager problem, nothing will solve the crowd problem except maybe a full circle of Death Eaters and a battery of Killing Curses. Never mind how nice that sounds, it isn't going to happen. Draco can handle dog and Billy, leave me free to handle the bags. 

Damn! I seem to have thought him more capable than he is, it's not as if he's had to handle crowds like this before. I hope he has the strength to deal and not to fall apart, he has Billy after all, what a fool I was! I am tall enough to see, but one teenager looks much like another in the heat and crowding. 

"Draco! There you are!" She's seen him, and seen me opening my mouth to blast him, at least I think that's what that hiss and the elbow in the ribs means, so I tone down from Angry Bastard Snape to something less intimidating. He seems to be more capable of dealing than I thought, so I just load him up with more packages and we continue on. Not for long, dog and boy (and, to be honest, man) are getting a bit tired of this. Although man is more used to it than either dog or boy, judging by the wriggling of one and the face of the other. 

Done, done, all done, and not before time too. I steer everyone towards the less crowded section of food alley, and head off to find drinkables, damn it's hot! In muggle stories, wizards can wave a wand and food and drink appear. Well yes, but cardboard transfigured to steak is still cardboard, as you'd know if you'd eaten it. So no foolish wand-waving for me, just balancing several cups of cold juice in a crowded alley. I switch on Intimidating Bastard Snape, no one jostles him if they can help it. 

I settle down, glad to be off my feet, sharing my sandwich with Munin. Not that I have a choice, if I didn't give it freely he'd steal it as blatantly as he steals the dog's sausage. And I'd probably lose a finger in the process, if only to remind me of my responsibilities. Which apparently include keeping a greedy little raven in the style to which he wishes to become accustomed. 

We all of us collapse into tired lumps, Draco sprawling against the wall, Sarah and I leaning into each other. I curl my arm around her, even after years of it I still feel faintly amazed about that. Took me a surprisingly long time to learn how nice it is to have your arm around someone who wants you to do it and leans into it in that oh-so-delightful way. Of course it took me a surprisingly long time to find someone who wanted it... She says that it just took me forever to _notice_ someone wanted it, and that even now I don't notice the sheep's eyes being made at me by all sorts of people. That's as may be, I only need to notice when one particular person looks at me like that. 

Well, can't stay here all day. Still work to be done, and Billy won't be asleep forever. I disentangle myself and we get to our feet. Sarah goes to one boy, I to the other. "Come on, Draco. We still need to buy potion ingredients, tea and some more clothes for you." 

He looks confused. Typical teenager, he'd wear the same things till they fell off him if I let him. That's one of the reasons for school robes of course, it's far easier to have a schoolful of teenagers vaguely presentable when they just have to throw on house-elf cleaned robes over whatever they grab while half asleep. 

Hah. not your gang boy? All those years in Slytherin and you are still not fit to be let out on your own, not your gang indeed. Lucius really did ruin you with those bodyguards and teaching you to buy your companionship. Learn they are your gang Draco, because if you don't live up to the responsibilities which go with that hat... 

At last, the apothecary's. More people than I expected, I pass the waiting time checking my mental inventory of the supplies at school and home. Albus calls the supplies in the flat "research materials" and "secure storage" and insists they go on the Hogwarts account, I've given up arguing. I don't like charity, but he keeps pointing out that he should be paying me twice what he is and is forbidden to, so he'll make it up in other ways. 

I take my time with inspecting the wares of course. Not that Shelmerston would offer substandard items to me, but the more unusual things could have deteriorated in storage before he got them. Besides, I enjoy the process, feeling them, smelling them, even tasting some. All of my senses engaged, losing myself in the skill of it. I have been told that in the muggle world people who can do this with varieties of wine or tea are much prized, should I ever escape my captivity I could perhaps find myself a job like that. 

It's over all too soon. Although not soon enough for some it seems, I send a few Arrogant Bastard Snape glares at the more loudly impatient and they close their mouths immediately. Who needs a wand? 

Damn. Bread. How could I forget bread? The crowds are worse, it's going to be a hard road and a long wait. Oh well, standing here gets nothing done. I pick up Billy, make sure Draco and the dog and the bags are under control and we grit our teeth and enter the fray. Apposite word, my nerves are getting more and more frayed. Which is definitely showing on my face, I'm not even trying and people are getting out of my way. 

Finally! Billy's asleep on my shoulder, and I leave him there while we redistribute the remaining burdens. I feel his weight and his warmth and relax. Years of dealing with children did not prepare me for this. Old Joe told me that it's different when they are your own, considering how many he has I suppose he should know. 

------ 

An early dinner, and seeing as I now have fresh Ashwinder eggs, I can brew the Wolfsbane tonight. Dried eggs are all very well, but you need less Deviltongue with the fresh, and the stuff tastes bad enough as it is. 

I suppose this is what musicians feel like, this creating something that you have created before, hands and fingers moving as they've been trained by long experience, but every time new with a beauty that takes the breath away. 

I find it almost a meditation, to be focused on colour and smell and essence, the ingredients and amounts coming neatly to hand seemingly without conscious thought. Instinct, they say, is experience gone subliminal, I have an instinct for weight and measure that needs neither scale nor glass. But I use them anyway, precision is part of the creating. 

I note the boy's presence as I note the cat leaving, as I note the sun's light fading, as I note the sounds of Sarah in the other room, they are there but not important, all that is important is the creation and the infusion of power into the liquid I am concentrating on. That's why so few can brew this potion, or indeed any potion that affects the soul's essence. The infusion of power is needed in any potion, but usually the concentration needed to brew it will flow enough magic into the mix. The more complex the potion, the greater the concentration, but that only goes so far. There comes a time when the infusion must be conscious and directed, and not a function of attention to weights and measures and exact preparation. 

The more powerful the wizard, the more powerful the magic that is infused into the brew, but not every powerful wizard understands the mechanism well enough to make a potion like this. Even Albus Dumbledore could stand and stare it at all day and it would be barely useful. His talents lie elsewhere. 

Another frustration about teaching of course. No matter how much you tell them to pay attention, how much you coax them or intimidate them into concentrating on precision and exactitude, into focusing on the brew in front of them, they will lose focus and think about sex or sport or food or their petty feuds. And their magic bleeds away down those ratholes, they may as well be mixing coloured paint. If adding this and that was all there was to it, then muggles could be Potion Masters, but that never occurs to them. 

Ah well. The only potion brewing most of them will ever do is a hangover remedy or something to get the stain out of the carpet, and those need no more concentration than the ability to stir the stuff without knocking the cauldron over. 

I finish the first third, and the second, and as I start on the last third there is a change near me, it's the boy, coming to see what I'm doing. I spare him a glance, the hard work's done and it needs no more now than half my attention. 

Alarm! Fingers within my field of focus, "Don't!". Marinated Hyanthus is not something he should be handling. Especially as it's a restricted substance and that residue on his fingers could get him a nasty little talking to by the Anti Dark Arts boys. 

I attune a portion of myself to the cauldron and focus my gaze and my mind on the boy. He's curious, which is an oddly delightful surprise. Even if he still has those oldblood ideas about money. I distract him from potentially difficult topics with a couple of jobs, then decide to maybe see how far his curiosity extends. He was able to puzzle out the maths, will he be able to puzzle out a potion, given enough information? 

"Why don't you try and ... turn that jar invisible." 

I start him on the path, giving him hints as small as I can get away with. I know he's bright enough, his marks show that, but wizarding education is more about memorisation and ritual than about finding things out for yourself. It's only the rare few who go beyond the rote. Perhaps that's a failure in us, the teachers, but given the amount of trouble it is to get them to learn enough to be safe when a careless fool can level a building, making them work it out themselves is bound to lead to trouble. 

I answer his questions, falling easily into chatting with the lad. A long way, this, from the careful methods of a Head of House, much more relaxing. 

Even when the talk drifts to dangerous ground. 

But here is perhaps less dangerous a place to talk than Hogwarts where all the walls have ears and eyes and tongues to speak of what they have heard and seen, and no doubt claws as well should they be needed. 

I lead him away from who I am and what I am, and back to the safer territory of brewing. A simple enough potion this, if you approach it properly, and the results will tell me more about his potential than most of the stuff at school. 

I watch him, while the part of me that is connected so intimately to the Wolfsbane potion monitors it and blends with it, and coaxes its potential into life. I feel the mixture react to me and to itself and encourage it to feel its own power, to settle down into its destiny. 

And there are those who think it's just about shredding the roots finely enough! 

------ 


End file.
